The Shattered Doll
by queien
Summary: Muraki has kidnapped Hisoka and is refusing to tell Tsuzuki where he is unless Tsuzuki takes the beautifully-crafted doll Muraki brought him as a gift. However, Tsuzuki soon learns that what happened to Hisoka is much more sinister and twisted than he could ever have imagined.


[[Warning: gore, torture, character death. Sorry not sorry.]]

"Where's Hisoka?!" Tsuzuki snapped, glaring at the smug bastard in the white trench coat in front of him. "What did you do with him, Muraki?!"

Muraki didn't reply. Instead, he just smiled smugly and held out the doll he was carrying. She wore a pink dress and black shoes with ruffly white socks. Her face looked freshly painted, and her makeup was delicate and light, accentuating a slender face that implied she was older than the more baby-like dolls Muraki usually preferred. Her eyes were large and blue and surrounded by long, thick lashes. Her curly brown hair, so long that it reached her waist, was tied up with a huge, pink ribbon. A similar ribbon was tied around her throat.

Tsuzuki swatted the offering away and Muraki almost dropped it. "Careful, Mr. Tsuzuki," Muraki said. "I worked so hard making this for you. It would be a shame if you broke it."

"I don't care about that doll!" Tsuzuki yelled. "I care about Hisoka! Where is he? Give him back!"

Muraki just smiled patiently and held out the doll again. When Tsuzuki didn't move to take it, he said "you know how I play, my dear Mr. Tsuzuki. Take the doll and this will be so much easier for you."

Tsuzuki growled in frustration but nevertheless snatched the doll from Muraki's hands. The doctor smiled contentedly, but seemed to make no move to answer Tsuzuki's question.

"Muraki!" Tsuzuki snapped. "Answers!"

Muraki just smiled and looked away, a soft chuckle escaping out of his nose in a puff of air.

"Don't play with me, Muraki!" Tsuzuki yelled, but yet again, Muraki was silent. Tsuzuki felt rage build inside him, and he smashed the doll to the floor, shattering it.

* * *

Hisoka awoke with a jolt and found himself in a strange place, naked except for a patient's gown. Glancing around wildly, all he could see were strange machines and doll parts of all sizes, some whole and some shattered. The faint scent of rotting meat filled his nostrils, making him gag. "Tsuzuki!" He cried. Hovever, his voice was weak, and the effort left him coughing. When he had recovered, he tried again. "Tsuzuki!"

"Mr. Tsuzuki won't be joining us, I'm afraid," came an all-to-familiar voice that chilled Hisoka to the bone.

"Muraki," he growled, trying to hide his fear. Hisoka heard footsteps and a sinister chuckle.

"Indeed," Muraki replied as he came into Hisoka's view. There seemed to be a smaller table of some sort that was lower than the raised surface that Hisoka was chained to, because Muraki's hand dipped down below where he could see and then returned with a scalpel. "I've been waiting for you to wake back up," Muraki said, inspecting the sharp instrument in the dim light. "It would hardly be any fun to begin while you were still unconscious."

Hisoka gulped and struggled against his restraints. "Tsuzuki!" he screamed at the top of his voice, desperate to be away from the twisted man who had murdered him.

"Where should I start?" Muraki pondered, ignoring the boy's struggles. His one visible eye wandered up and down Hisoka's writhing body. "Ah, I think I know," he said, gaze lingering at Hisoka's crotch.

Hisoka continued to struggle until he felt Muraki's hands lifting the patient's gown to expose him. Then, he went still, growing pale. Each panting breath he took shook his body as he watched Muraki, eyes wide in horror. "Don't touch me," he managed to gasp, his voice barely a whisper as fear that Muraki would penetrate him rose in his chest. "Don't..."

But what Muraki ended up doing was much, much worse. Hisoka screamed in agony and began his writhing anew as he felt the scalpel slice into the base of his penis.

"Moving like this will only make it more painful for you in the end," Muraki warned, using his other hand to roughly pin Hisoka's pelvis to the table.

Hisoka continued to scream until his throat became raw as he fought against his bonds in pain. Tears began to flow as his vision began to white out.

Soon, the pain from the slicing of his genitals stopped, and Hisoka lay there limp, his body quivering as he tried to process what had just happened to him. Other than his shallow breaths, he was completely still, even unable to bring himself to blink.

Muraki chuckled and raise Hisoka's severed penis and balls aloft, a trophy. Hisoka glanced at them briefly and then looked away with a shuddering sob. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" Muraki asked. "Now with the worst part out of the way, I'm sure the rest will be much easier on you now. Ah, but I can't be missing any parts, even if such a thing would have been unsightly on the final product." Muraki grabbed a metal rod and stuffed it into the severed penis, making it more erect.

Hisoka clenched his fists in anticipation when he felt Muraki rub the head of his own detached genitals against his opening.

"Now now," Muraki said. "You of all people should know that clenching makes this hurt more. Try to relax," he said as he pushed. Hisoka whimpered and jerked reflexively against his chains as he felt the head slide in. He moaned in pain and his legs trembled uncontrollably as Muraki continued to force his own dick into him, lubricated by his own blood that continued to pour from the wound that was still open in spite of his fast healing.

Once the entire length was inside of him including both of his balls, Muraki pressed a finger against Hisoka's quivering orifice. "Clench tight," he ordered. "If it comes out, I'll fuck you with it before shoving it back in. Understood?"

Hisoka just lay there numbly, his pelvis wracked with pain. Muraki slowly removed his hand from Hisoka's hole, and seeing that the boy seemed to be making some effort to keep himself clenched, set the scalpel aside in exchange for needle and thread, which he used to stitch the wound he had inflicted.

Hisoka jumped as he felt the fresh pain of the needle piercing his flesh. The reflex caused his sphincter to quiver, the gruesome contents shifting threateningly. Remembering the threat, Hisoka clenched his muscles as tight as he could manage as tears poured down his face again. He tried to keep his mind off the pain by focusing on his assigned task. However, keeping his attention on his filled anus only made the sensation of fullness stronger and made him remember exactly what he was holding within him. He wanted to puke.

Muraki finished and then cut the thread. "Oops, almost forgot," he said slyly. "I shouldn't force you to clench forever." With that, he began to sew Hisoka's anus closed, going over it again and again with tight stitches. Hisoka screamed and struggled again, his feet sliding through slick blood as he struggled to gain traction on the table he was bound to.

Muraki tied off his work and then cut the thread. Hisoka lay there, eyes devoid of hope and staring off into the distance, unseeing. Muraki stroked Hisoka's cheek with a bloody hand, but the boy didn't move, not even flinching.

"You're doing so well," Muraki praised. "The next step will be easier... I promise."

The tiniest whimper escaped Hisoka's lips. He was exhausted with pain already. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. Why wouldn't Muraki just kill him?

Muraki grabbed a needle that looked more like a fish hook and threaded it. He then straddled Hisoka's chest and wedged his fingers into Hisoka's cheek. The sharp pain of fingernail in the flesh of his cheek paired with those fingers persistent to burrow between his closed teeth caused Hisoka to open his mouth wide. As the wicked needle penetrated the flesh behind his lips, Hisoka groaned and struggled to move his head, but he was too weak. He whimpered each time he felt the needle enter him, his eyes wide and crying. At one point, he hesitantly send his tongue out as a probe and found his fears realized as he felt a net of thread crisscrossing between his lips. He groaned hopelessly and went completely limp.

Muraki finished his task and pulled the threads, sealing Hisoka's lips together, the threads barely noticable.. The boy let out a shuttering sob and then turned his head to look up at his abuser.

"So broken already," Muraki murmured in mock pity. "What a shame. I was hoping you'd struggle for longer." Hisoka let out a tiny sound. "But if you're broken already, then I can't have you making noises like that. Anyway, it would ruin the final effect I'm going for." Still straddling the boy, Muraki leaned over to fetch his scalpel once more and then plunged the blade into Hisoka's throat. Hisoka's eyes bugged out and he made a strangled sound as he felt blood flow from his neck. "Don't worry. This won't kill you," Muraki promised as he went to work. Hisoka felt his vision blur and fade with pain and blood loss as he gasped pitifully for air through his nose. He stayed still during the entirety of whatever Muraki was doing, too scared to move with his throat sliced open as it was. After a while, Muraki began to stitch everything back together. Hisoka whimpered, or tried to, but no sound came out. He stiffened.

"Did you figure out what I did so soon?" Muraki asked with a chuckle. "Oh well. No worries." He finished off stitching Hisoka's throat back together. "There's still one more task to be done before you're ready." He said, getting the hooked needle again. "It wouldn't have been any fun if you'd been blind this whole time. I wanted you to watch me mutilate you..."

Hisoka wished he could still scream as Muraki sewed his eyes closed, taking his vision from him.

Once Muraki had finished with him, Hisoka lay there like a discarded rag doll. He could hear Muraki humming to himself as Muraki washed the blood from his hands. He tensed when he heard Muraki's footsteps approaching him again. Why wouldn't Muraki kill him? He didn't even want to be saved anymore. All Hisoka wanted was to die, to escape this pain that was so much worse than anything he had ever experienced.

He flinched when he felt Muraki gently caress his cheek. "It looks like your healing ability is taking care of your wounds... excellent... I can wash you off now." Muraki removed the blood-soaked patient gown from Hisoka's body, leaving him completely naked. A cold spray of water then blasted Hisoka's exposed skin. He tried to scream, but only silence came out as his back arched as he tried to escape the cold.

Muraki just hummed as he hosed down Hisoka's writhing body, indifferent to the effect of the water temperature on the boy. When he finished, the boy was drenched and trembling. Muraki grabbed a towel and tenderly dabbed at him to try his body. Tears squeezed out of the corners of Hisoka's sealed eyes, joining the icy water that dripped down his body.

Once Muraki had thoroughly dried him, he unchained him. Hisoka's heart raced excitedly in his chest for a brief instant before he remembered how helpless he now was. He couldn't run. All he could do was let Muraki lead his trembling body wherever he wanted.

He wasn't sure where he was led, but eventually, he was allowed to sit, though sitting wasn't exactly comfortable with his new stitches. Hisoka then felt Muraki position his arms and then lock them into place with chains. Not knowing what else to do, Hisoka went limp, allowing this sadist to position him as he liked. He was sure that there wasn't anything worse that Muraki could do to him now.

Muraki lifted Hisoka's head, strapped it into place, and then stroked his cheek. "What a good boy you're being," he said. "I wish there was some way I could reward you. Shame." Muraki then stepped away and Hisoka heard the sounds of machinery as he was jerkily pulled forward on some sort of conveyor belt.

Hisoka had felt death before, and the coldness that now chilled and stiffened his body felt awfully close to it. The only difference was that he wasn't fading away like how he remembered dying. At first, he blamed it on the fact that he already had been blinded so there was nowhere darker to go, but as his consciousness continued to linger, panic began to grow inside of him.

The mechanical sounds stopped, and he was no longer being moved along by a conveyor belt. He struggled to move something, anything, but felt stuck. He could feel his muscles contracting against his flesh painfully, yet nothing moved. It was as if he were made of stone.

Muraki's footsteps sounded different now. They were louder yet somehow muffled, as though he were hearing them through a sheet of glass. His hands seemed much larger as well as Muraki unbound his stiff body, although to be fair he could barely feel Muraki's hands at all.

When Muraki flicked him on his arm, though, he felt the reverberations deep in his core.

"Porcelain skin," Muraki said proudly. "Sadly, none of my other test subjects survived the process. However, I'm positive you're still conscious." Muraki rested a finger under Hisoka's nose and seemed satisfied upon feeling his shallow, rapid breaths. "Well, you're alive, at least, and that's all that matters." He said. "Your face looks so plain. I should paint you first. A gift as marvelous as yourself should look as stunning as possible."

Hisoka could do nothing as he felt brushes softly caressing his skin, painting him a fresh face. Clothes were selected next, carefully pulled over his stiffened limbs. At one point, he felt something slip against the smoothness of his neck. "An exquisite doll like you can't have a gash like that visible on your neck," Muraki explained.

Hair came next. Muraki carefully snipped the blond locks from the top of Hisoka's head and then fitted him with a wig, finishing the look with a bow.

"Excellent," Muraki exclaimed. "I'm sure Mr. Tsuzuki will love you!"

* * *

Tsuzuki stared down at the bloody mess splattered at his feet. His first response was that of horror, but his blood suddenly ran cold as he realized that the chunks of porcelain were moving as muscles contracted under them, spasming as they slowly lost all life.

"No," Tsuzuki murmured in disbelief. "No way... no, please don't be true... please don't be him..." He stuttered as he watched the muscles slowly cease their twitching.

Muraki said nothing and only silently smirked.


End file.
